


Fanfic Court: In Memoriam.

by Snooky



Category: Bewitched (TV 1964), Combat! (TV), Hogan's Heroes, Night Court (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Next Generation, Twelve O'Clock High (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: The Hogan's Heroes' characters are again fed up with the authors. What is it this time? The SSSW contest. Too many missions in too short a time period. Once again, they appear before Judge Stone to find justice. My tribute to Bernard Fox and Harry Anderson. Originally published on fanfictiondotnet. companion/sequel to my fanfic court universe series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When Bernard Fox passed away in December, 2016, I planned on honoring him with a story. Unfortunately, personal life got in the way, and I found myself struggling to write for quite some time after I lost my dad in April 2017.
> 
> Bernard Fox, (May 11, 1927-December 14, 2016) our beloved Colonel Crittendon "was renowned as an expert theatre historian. He was reputedly a keen gardener, a painter of landscapes and a devotee of performing magic." from Imdb
> 
> Harry Anderson left us way too soon. "Night Court" was a welcome presence on my TV screen throughout its run, and I was so fortunate to be able to use his character for my Fanfic Court story back in 2009. The reaction to that story by the fandom blew me away, and the collaborative trial soon followed. The following is my tribute to these two great entertainers.

"Everyone's life would be improved if they do could one great magic trick. And tell one great joke, play one tune on the piano, and do one great origami fold." Harry Anderson

October 14 1952-April 16, 2018

Fanfic Court: In Memoriam

Harry Stone barely looked up as his bailiff, Nostradamus "Bull" Shannon, walked through the door to the judge's office. Carrying a stack of cases, Bull plopped the papers on Stone's desk and headed over to the couch, where Harry sat in a slouched position. The judge, his fingers still wrapped around a smartphone, glanced at Bull, and then asked, "What do you want, Bull?"

"I want you to put down that contraption, sir, and get back to work."

"Work?" mumbled the young judge.

"Yes, work." Bull reached over and grabbed the phone, plopping it into his pocket.

"Hey," Harry protested. "Give that back to me."

"No, sir. We are staging an intervention. Look at you." From his other pocket, Bull whipped out a small mirror and held it in front of Harry's face. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Bull shook his head, and held out his hand. "C'mon, sir. We need to get you back to normal."

"Give me my phone. I have to check Twitter."

"No can do."

"Facebook."

"No way."

"Pinterest."

Bull paused. He had a Pinterest account. He had recently taken up crafting, and he was getting quite a following.

"Bull? Pinterest?" Harry repeated.

Bull shook his head.

"Instagram."

"You must be joking."

"The Mets' score."

That gave Bull pause. "Well, okay. Just the Mets' score." He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it back, watching carefully to make sure the judge wasn't cheating.

"Darn it. They lost again." Harry put his head in his hands and sighed. "That bullpen. And my grandmother could hit better than they do."

"At least they're consistent, sir."

Harry looked up. "Consistently bad. Ouch." He clenched and unclenched his hand a few times. "My hand hurts. So does my neck."

"That's what you get from becoming addicted to social media and these stupid phones. I have no idea how they showed up in our realm in the first place. I thought we had taken control of them after the 2012 Fanfic Court trials, sir. Too much hacking."

"2012 trials. 2012 trials." The judge bit his lip as he tried to recall those events; not even a decade old. "Oh, yeah. They were published in Fanfiction Reporter. And it was also on one of those author's accounts. Jazzy, Justice….No. Jinzle. That was it. Yeah. I remember. Wow. Anyway, getting back to the phones. It was those Once Upon a Time people," Harry said. "They have so many realms they don't know how to contain them, and reality leaked in. Look, Bull. I figured out how to turn my phone into a flashlight!" The judge began playing with the light, turning it on the walls and ceiling. "Neat, isn't it?"

"Very cool, sir. We have to get you cleaned up. No…don't go back onto the couch." Bull reached over and grabbed the phone again. " Look, sir. I brought you something to fiddle with. A fidget spinner." He demonstrated and waited.

"Ooh. Let me see that!" Harry grabbed the latest shiny trend and gave it a whirl. "Hey, this is cool."

Bull breathed a sigh of relief. At least the fidget spinner took Stone's attention away from the smartphone.

"Okay, sir. Let's get you ready. Follow me." The bailiff pressed a button on Harry's phone and the sweet sounds of Mel Torme filled the room. Harry followed Bull and the music. It reminded the bailiff of Hansel and Gretel following bread crumbs. It took several minutes, but eventually the judge, now wearing robes and looking his normal spiffy self, appeared in the courtroom.

Harry took his seat and grabbed his gavel. "Show me the docket, Bull." The bailiff placed the docket on the desk. "Can I have my phone back?"

"No way!" The entire courtroom answered in unison.

"Okay, okay…no need to get touchy." For the first time, Harry looked up, and seeing who took up positions in the front seats, his mouth hung open in shock. "Bull, hand me a stress ball."

Two days earlier:

"I can't take this anymore. I..really...can't...take...this. Anymore."

Slap!

The soldier's hand flew to his cheek. "Thanks, sir. I needed that."

Hogan nodded. "I know, Carter. Did I hurt you?"

"No, sir. I think I'm okay. It's just..."

"I get it. We are all running on adrenaline and lots of caffeine." Hogan rubbed his chin. "You'd think we'd be used to these short story speed writing contests by now, but, geez..." He looked down at his left hand, which was shaking. Quickly, the colonel placed it in his pocket. "For what it's worth, I heard four guards have taken a section 8." At the questioning looks, Hogan held up his hand. "Yup. M*A*S*H has spilled over several times, and they have good recall. Burkhalter went to the Russian Front for a vacation. Yeah, think about it. And Langenscheidt mixed up all his jigsaw puzzles. This year has been bad."

"Hoping those so and so writers got on multiple mailing lists when they made their charitable contributions," Kinch said with an evil grin on his face. "That will serve them right." A chorus of hear hear rang out through the barracks.

"To multiple mail...mail...mailing lists," Newkirk, who was drunk, raised his mug. "Of, course…" He hiccuped. "Of course, with their luck, their desk caddies will be overflowing with free address labels."

Schultz, who was hanging out in the hut, walked over to the corporal. "Newkirk, you've been drinking. That is strictly prohibited." He tried to grab hold of the mug, but Newkirk danced around the portly sergeant, stepping out of his way in the nick of time.

"That I am, Schultz. Can't take this nonstop action. Twenty-five plots in one day." He took another swig of his spiked tea and smacked his lips.

To Schultz's surprise, Hogan didn't admonish the Englishman.

Instead, the colonel began pacing. He paused to scratch his head and stood in shock, looking at the large clump of hair resting in his palm. "Oh...my...God."

Seeing the stricken look on Hogan's face, LeBeau rushed over. "Mon Colonel. I know we've been putting this off, but we have to do something."

Hogan looked down at LeBeau. "You're right."

A cheer went up in the hut.

"No one is going to cause my hair to fall out. I don't care how much money they've made for their pet causes. Kinch, take a memo."

Present day...in the fan fiction universe, that is.

Harry leaned over his desk and looked at a character he hoped he would never see again.

"Run that by me again, Colonel Hogan. You lost me at speed-writing."

"Those...miscreants, neer-do-wells, insolent, egotistical…"

"Hang on. Hang on there." Colonel Klink walked up to the bench and stood beside his senior POW officer. "Name-calling is so beneath you, Hogan."

"But my hair!"

"Hoogaaan! Being bald is not the end of the world. Allow me, Judge Stone. They are running us ragged. Literally. It's 25 stories in less than 24 hours...meaning 25 missions...with no time to breathe. One right after another. Not like before when we may have had one or two stories a day or an update in the mission. No, it's bam, bam, bam." Klink pounded his fist on Stone's desk for emphasis.

Sighing, Harry leaned back in his chair. "Do you have a written complaint?"

"No, not yet, Judge. We have barely had time to get dressed, much less write something out," Klink replied.

"Oy." Harry grabbed his stress ball, and for the first time, took a better look at his courtroom. As usual, the spectator seats were full...for since the noted fan fiction court trials, he had become very popular in the fanfic court universe. Much more so than the Law and Order crowd. The seats on the lower level were full as well. This time, to his utter surprise, the prisoners and Germans sat together, taking up multiple rows on both sides. Glancing at the docket sheet, he noted other plaintiffs and defendants were relegated to the back rows.

"I hoped I would never see you again. I thought this was all settled. How long has it been since this all started. Bull?"

His bailiff opened his mouth. "I believe it's been..."

"Nine years, six months, eight days," (1) replied a voice belonging to a man at the back of the courtroom. He slowly strode to the front. The man had impeccable posture, noted Harry, an idiotic haircut, a dull gray ugly uniform, a slight green tinge to his skin, raised eyebrows, and pointy ears.

"Who the hell are you?" Hogan, who had turned to watch the new arrival, asked.

"I know, I know!" Bull raised his hand. "You're a comic con reject! Supposed to be Mr. Spock. Nice ears," he added.

"Partially correct." The man raised his eyebrows. "I am indeed, Mr. Spock."

"No you're not." Harry retorted. "Now, why are you in my court?"

A commotion at the back of the room stopped the judge dead in his tracks. Four people, more rejects from a Sci-Fi convention, he supposed, came running down the aisle. "Let me guess, you're Kirk, Uhura...one of you is McCoy and one is Scotty?"

"Correct," said the man impersonating Kirk. "Spock, what are you doing here? We've been looking all over for you."

The woman strode up to the bench, and curiously sidled very close to the man who would be Spock. "We're from the Kelvin Timeline, (2) Judge Stone. I'm Uhura."

"That's right! And they should go back where they came from. In fact, they should just fix the timeline and disappear along with it!" shouted a spectator.

Harry banged his gavel. "Quiet!"

"Oh, come on. We're fictional characters, not Stephen Hawking. Give us a break," said a man with dark hair and a New Zealand accent who was masquerading as a southern American.

"Kelvin Timeline, Kelvin Timeline." Harry was trying to recall the details. He dropped the stress ball, leaving it for the stenographer to pick up off the floor.

"You're not Kirk," Hogan stated simply as he walked around the character. Kelvin Kirk's eyes followed the colonel. "I've seen multiple Kirk's. At...all...different...ages," he added, using Kirk's odd way of speaking as emphasis. "You're too young, too undisciplined, although you have the nicest blue eyes," he stated. "And why are those two climbing all over each other. Get a room!" He pointed to Spock and Uhura, who were pawing each other over in the corner.

"Order. Order! Geez, Louise." Harry slammed down his gavel. "Sorry, Hogan. I believe they are who they say they are. Wait, I know you...Kirk...From the last Princess Diaries movie. You're played by Chris..." He lowered his voice to a whisper, following fan fiction universe rules and not speaking aloud names of live individuals.

"Nope, that's the Guardians of the Galaxy guy." Kirk sighed. "Try again, Stone."

"Chris..."

"Nope, that's Captain America."

"Chris..."

"Nope, that's Thor..." Kirk stepped back. "Give up?"

"He's the one that can sing!" Shouted a group of girls in the upper balcony.

"Oh, that Chris!" Harry nodded. "Although, to be fair, I'm sure the other Chris actors can also sing and dance and all that."

Kirk waved at the upper balcony, making some of the girls swoon. "Like a tree! Kirk here at your service."

"Sorry to interrupt the party. I'm McCoy, Judge. Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a court reporter. What is pointy ears doing here?"

"Doctor. I heard about this issue through the grapevine, and it seemed fascinating. Seeing as we have never been able to interact before."

"And why is that, Mr. Spock?" Harry asked as he began playing with his slinky. He really missed Candy Crush, but he was still stuck on level 34. That darn chocolate. His memory of the Kelvin Trek came back in bits and pieces. It was the talk of the fandoms for a while, and then died down after the great Fanfiction AU war of 2015. The judge shuddered at the memory of being placed in the middle of nowhere, Alaska. While he enjoyed the brief meeting with Northern Exposure, he still slept with an electric blanket. Boy, were they out of their element. Dan Fielding got counseling from Dr. Freedman, the M*A*S*H shrink for weeks afterwards. Strangely, Bull and the usual Night Court suspects, including the guy who looked like Data, took it all in stride. No one really liked the Kelvin Trek; no hard feelings towards the actors of course, but many people disagreed with the tone. He heard there was also a new series as well, but no one could watch it.

"We haven't been given a hearty welcome," replied Scotty. "No one wanted us near them." He pouted for emphasis.

The protagonists paused as the familiar sound of a transporter beam interrupted the Kelvin angst.

"So I've heard." Commander Riker, still dressed as he was in Star Trek: The Next Generation, stepped forward. He was accompanied by Mr. Data and Counselor Troi.

At the sight of his former legal representative, Hogan smiled. Riker was good. Very good. He poked Klink in the ribs. "We'll get this fixed now, sir. The cavalry is here!"

Klink, who was so exhausted, he had not even noticed that he placed his monocle on the wrong side, nodded.

"We are listed as being here for the plaintiffs, your honor." Riker was about to hand Stone a pad, and then thought better of it. "I've downloaded the official documents to your system, sir. But I assure you everything is in order. And may I say, and this goes for everyone. Shame on all you!" He turned and pointed at every character in attendance. "Treating the Kelvin people this way. You are professionals. I'm very disappointed."

"Shame," Troi repeated. "It's not their fault. This is how they were written. They're making the best of it. I sense low self-esteem."

"Hey, wait a minute," Kirk protested.

"Tremendous angst no matter how many cheery stories they have...all stemming from their origin story, of course." Troi wiped her tearing eye.

Spock's eyebrows went up.

"This is not who we are," Riker said. "We are welcoming, and we help one another."

"The Next Generation," whispered one of the prisoners to one of the guards. "Like Oprah in space!"

"Hear, hear," went the cry from the spectators and participants as murmurs of remorse swept through the courtroom.

The four interlopers, for that was how they actually felt, although they would never admit it in front of an audience, were grateful for the support. Kirk turned and faced the crowd. Nodding at Riker and Troi, he paused and then spoke.

"We've been here for almost a decade in real person time. And it's been rough. But, we've had some good times as well. Even joining our Stalag 13 friends here for two crossovers. So we interact, but just in stories. But not socially during our off time. "Turning to face Hogan, Kirk continued. "I will say, Colonel Hogan and Kommandant Klink, that your fandom offers consistently good writing. Bravo." Kirk heartily clapped Hogan on the back. "Credit to your entire company."

"You're welcome," Hogan choked, as he stumbled. He was so tired.

"Hey, let's have the experts handle this case, and watch from the rafters." Kirk looked up, and spotted a pretty girl. He winked at her.

"Same in every fandom," McCoy commented wryly to Scotty. "Always after the women."

Harry looked exasperated. "I don't really know why we need you Commander Riker. There's no preliminary trial here. I'll hear their point."

"But who is to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. Those who aren't here to offer their own defense?"

"Thank you, Data. Judge Stone?" Riker gave Stone a small smile.

Meanwhile, up in the rafters, fans, Mary Sue's, and other characters craned their necks forward to watch the proceedings taking place below them. A loud crash followed by an "Oh, buggers. Sorry, sorry, mind the gap," caught everyone's attention.

Hogan let out a big sigh. "Crittendon, what are you doing here? Hey someone get me a chair. I'm too bushed. I need to sit."

"Well, Marya's not here," Kinch deadpanned. He took the chair from one of the other bailiffs and gave it to Hogan. "So we might as well have the next best thing."

"How can you compare that nincompoop to my precious, delicate white flower? Asked LeBeau. His mates shrugged.

Not sure who's worse, Hogan thought. "Crittendon?"

"Here to support you, wot?" Crittendon looked around. "We're all in this together."

A huge groan emanated from the balcony. The Kelvin people looked a bit green.

"You okay up there?" Harry shaded his eyes.

"Crossover illness," explained Spock, who already was green. "High School Musical." As fan fiction became more popular, and more crossovers popped up all over multiple platforms, fandom participants often became ill after totally contrived crossovers.

"You have our sympathy," Hogan yelled up at the Trek folks. "We were throwing up tribble hairballs for weeks."

"Ick. Understood...carry on? Oh, what am I saying?" Harry banged his gavel again, just because he could.

"Hey!" A guy stood up. He turned to his girlfriend. "That guy looks like...

The girl smiled." Yup. From Bewitched! I loved that show. Watched it on reruns all the time. That's Samantha's doctor. Bombay. Calling Dr. Bombay. Calling Dr. Bombay...emergency. Come right…."

"Noooo!" A man, who strangely resembled the center square from Hollywood Squares, tried to stop the girl. But it was too late!

The warlock appeared in an instant. He was wearing an old-fashioned baseball uniform, with a Mets' logo on it. After all, his favorite witch, Samantha Stevens, was a Mets' fan. During her second pregnancy, her cravings sent her every which way, and eventually she ended up at Shea Stadium for a hot dog.

"This better be good," the warlock spoke to the entire crowd. "I was just about to face the '69 Mets' pitching staff in the fantasy league."

"Sorry, doc. We didn't call you. It was an accident," Harry stated. "I always thought state the nature of the emergency from Star Trek: Voyager was a better response."

Bombay sniffed.

"Well, I'll be...there are two of them? " Hogan turned a deathly shade of pale.

"Chop, chop, chop," Klink retorted with glee.

Bombay waved his hand and froze the entire courtroom. He walked over to the man who looked exactly like him. Handsome fellow, he chortled. He pulled a notebook out of thin air and began running through pages.

"Colonel Gracie, Titanic, Captain Havelock, The Mummy, Chip and Dale." He smiled. "Murder She Wrote. M*A*S*H, Tabitha, 12 o'clock High, Colombo, Love American style, Make Room for Daddy." There were hundreds more.

Ah. There we are. Colonel Crittendon, Hogan's Heroes. Done!

Bombay had a goal to meet every single doppelganger. He was well on his way, but there were so many roles, and he was often very busy. Crittendon was busy as well, and in some cases, his character broke through his original bio and had more intense parts to play. Bombay gave silent thanks to the fan who accidentally summoned him. But this was not his fandom, and not his place to work out issues between characters and authors. After all, he thought that was settled case law.

"Sorry, but I need to get back. Bases loaded, bottom of the ninth, 3-2 count. And I'm at bat! Perfect. But first...ah, enough of those rhymes. I swear they put them in to pad the scripts. Let's go back a moment."

"Hey!" A guy stood up. He turned to his girlfriend. "That guy looks like..."

The girl smiled. "Yup. From, Bewitched. I loved that show. Watched it on reruns all the time. That's Samantha's doctor...Calling

Her friend stopped her in mid-sentence. "Don't finish it," he warned. "This is fan fiction and who knows what can happen. This is not his fandom."

"But what about all these Trek folks?" She asked. "They are constantly involved."

"Yeah, I can't figure that out. But they aren't wacky."

"Good point," the girl replied." The two sat back and watched the rest of the proceedings. Meanwhile, Crittendon, who had brought a tablet, began to read.

Harry was mindlessly juggling three stress balls. He was feeling a bit more relaxed, but firm. His eyes actually focused better and his hands were more dexterous. Maybe Bull was right; I was addicted to social media and today's tech. It's not good.

"First let me say, everything in moderation. Bull warned me about being addicted to my iPhone 6."

"6?" Riker said. "We're up to 145! I had a hologram save my space in line."

"Yeah, Riker, shut up. I was talking. Addicted to all these new devices. That's for up there. Down here? Chill. Live a little."

"Aha!" Riker struck his hand on the desk. "Stone, you just said everything in moderation. What about these poor characters forced to run through umpteen scenarios? And now they are on all different platforms."

"Yeah, moderation, Judge. You've got to do something." Hogan looked at the spectators who yelled their support.

"This is utterly ridiculous. You know this was settled ages ago. You wouldn't, we wouldn't...even be here if it wasn't for the authors. I follow you all, it's not that bad," Harry said.

"Jeez," Hogan retorted. "We've put up with the angst, the injuries, cavorting with cartoon characters, the sequels, the 2012 trial, the Mary Sues..."

"It is a problem, Stone. Look how tired they are." Riker pointed at all the men from Stalag 13. They were in various stages of exhaustion. Some were prone on the benches snoring away.

"Newkirk, wake up." Carter poked his friend, who snored again and rolled over, falling off the bench.

"Ouch. Me bum."

Riker and Stone ignored them. They were now locked in an epic battle of wits.

"You made out great after that trial. We still have the character's rights movement that came out of there, gentlemen." Stone was now getting annoyed. These were supposed to be soldiers, for crying out loud. They worked under the noses of really, really, bad people. They had to act at a moment's notice.

"We need to do something. Before next year's charity event completely wipes them out," Riker countered.

Data whispered in Riker's ear.

"Yes, Data, I know they'll bounce back."

Troi whispered in the other.

"Well, of course it worked better when they forgot their missions and went on as before. But that resolution didn't work. This universe is too complicated."

"Riker." Harry sighed. "There are multiple writing contests out there. You are not the only characters suffering," he admitted. "But, rules are clear. Contests are allowed." Harry stood up and craned his neck. "I expected to see Perry Mason here, speaking for the defense. He knows just the right time to pop up."

A soldier no one recognized raised his hand, and then stood up. "If I may approach the bench?" He was of average height, with blond hair, and wearing an American sergeant's uniform.

For the second time, Hogan asked, "Who the hell are you?"

The soldier was bright-eyed and bushy tailed. "One of the extras hanging around the compound sir. Figured you all were too tired to think straight, so i took it upon myself to get more information, and to make sure there was no mistrial. Judge?"

"Good grief." Hogan walked back to his seat and plopped down.

"Approach the bench."

The soldier walked over. "Sorry, I have no name, but I need to tell you that Perry Mason is otherwise occupied. He's binge-watching Game of Thrones."

"Bull, how come you didn't know this?"

The bailiff looked mortified. "I'm sorry, I thought someone filed something. Figured Mason would just pop in." He sighed.

"Binging too, Bull?"

He nodded. "The Crown."

"Ah. And you have the chutzpah to chide me for my electronic addiction." Harry shook his head. "Edict! There will be no more binging TV shows until this case settled. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," everyone murmured.

"But, the writers are entitled to a defense. Do we have anyone here?"

His public defender, Christine Sullivan, popped up in the back of the courtroom. "Sorry, Harry. I'm not prepared. Somehow, I missed the first hearings and trial." She shrugged.

The telltale sign of a transporter beam interrupted the proceedings.

"Here we go again." Harry reached in his drawer and pulled out a slinky.


	2. Chapter 2

Fanfic Court: In Memoriam

Chapter two

The figure materialized and, once freed from the beam, he stepped forward. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard from the Starship Enterprise. And I am here to speak for the writers; just in case."

"Sir, really?"

"Yes, Number One. After all, we faced each other in the episode Measure of a Man; and I did a great job, even if I do say so myself." He pulled down his shirt. Walking over to the bar placed in front of the rows of seats, all eyes upon him, he struck the bar forcefully, saying..."Not again! The line must be drawn here! This far, no further! And I will make them PAY for what they've done!"

The captain stepped back as the room broke out in applause. He nodded, accepting the accolades.

"Um, Captain?"

"Yes, Number One."

"You're supposed to be advocating for the defense, not quoting lines from Next Generation movies." He faced the crowd. "First Contact, in case you're keeping score."

"Oh. Yes...that' is correct. Well, it is true. These characters should not be allowed to mess around with their creators. Otherwise, we would not be here!" He nodded and pulled down his shirt. "Computer, earl grey tea, hot."

Nothing materialized.

"Computer?"

"No replicators here, sir."

"Oh? Well, thank you counselor. I am prepared. Pursuant to section 47, subsection 3, paragraph 7. Fanfiction bylaws, entities not part of this realm may no longer be transported to our universe without the express permission and/or prior approval of those affected; namely authors, reviewers and readers."

There was silence. Picard turned and faced Riker. "You get nothing, you lose. Good day, sir!"

More applause.

"Wow, he's effective. Should be doing Shakespeare," murmured one of the journalists in the back row.

"That, Captain, is from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Stop emoting, for crying out loud." Riker tried to hide his annoyance.

"Captain Jean Luc Xavier. Wait. I mean Picard. No X-men here today, thank goodness. Stop showing your acting chops and get with the program. And if you're quoting out of character, please give a citation."

"I apologize, Judge Stone. It seems someone ate all of my humble pie. Can't help it. But, I would like to say..."

"Oh no, here we go again." Kinch began banging his head against the wall.

"No being is so important that he can usurp the rights of another." He began pacing back and forth, and then raised his hand. "The Schizoid Man. I submit the authors are usurping our rights."

"You see Hogan, bald is in," Klink muttered.

"Oh, shut up."

Picard kept talking. "Shutting them down the first time didn't work. The mechanisms put in place to assist these characters with their angst-ridden bad memories did not work. As I said in the episode, When the Bough Breaks, 'Things are only impossible until they are not.'"

The captain was going on and on...commanding the attention of everyone in the courtroom; his display of the English language and voice inflections on display for everyone to see.

"Captain, captain!"

Picard turned at Counselor Troi's interruption.

"I think you need to get to the point."

Picard coughed. "I apologize, counselor. The point...the point is..."

Hogan grinned and looked at his men. "I think we've got this in the bag. I thought he'd be more effective, but guess, I'm wrong. He's going nowhere. The judge will have to do something."

"But, Hogan. We need the Star Trek people to do what the judge decides to do. They and their technology." Klink waved his hand in the air. "It's the only way to interact with the ones causing this problem."

"It's the captain for the writers and Riker for us...how can this possibly turn out right?" Olsen moaned. He put his head in his hands and let out a huge sigh.

"Steady, boy." Hogan, his hair still falling out in clumps, stroked the Outside Man's arm.

"Oh, good grief. Olsen, grow a pair." This comment came from the short man dressed in black. He interrupted Picard's soliloquy with an obvious cry for attention when he flung open the doors to the courtroom and sauntered down the middle aisle.

Gasps were heard from the crowd and Bull's staff of guards and bailiffs turned and placed their hands on their weapons. Hogan stood up and glared, his men surrounding their commanding officer in an effort to protect what was left of his dignity. Klink, his face turning red, found some chutzpah and approached the Gestapo officer.

"Hochstetter, what are you doing here? You've been banned from these proceedings."

"I didn't get the memo," Hochstetter sneered. "You people relying on electronic devices. How ridiculously inane. I lost cell coverage when I was in a tunnel and didn't know I was not welcome. Next time, send it by carrier pigeon, in writing.

"Why you..." Hogan attempted to lunge at his nemesis and failed, being held back by his men.

"Don't, sir. He's not worth it," Kinch said.

"Order, order." Harry banged his gavel with less enthusiasm then before. He really wanted to return to his normal form of insanity. Quirky supporting cast and eccentric crooks. He always knew where he stood, and there was usually no angst or terror.

"Why are you here, Major?" he asked Hochstetter, who tried to stand ramrod straight, but failed at the attempt.

The Gestapo major grabbed an empty chair without asking, and plopped down. "I'm here to support them," he stated, pointing to all the Germans and POW's in the courtroom. "We have our assigned roles, but I'm. Hang on..." He pulled out a small notebook. Reading from it, he continued. "I'm beat, beaten, bleary, burned-out, dead, done, drained, exhausted, fatigued, knackered, played out, pooped, spent, tapped out, tired, tuckered out, washed-out, wearied, weary, wiped out, worn, worn-out."

"Thanks, Wolfgang." Hogan wiped his eyes. "What he said, everyone."

"I appreciate your skill in looking up words in a thesaurus, Hochstetter, but we get the drift. Now then..." Harry leaned forward, steepled his fingers and paused. "I have the gist of what's going on here. Your complaint is that the writers have worked so hard with this contest, that they haven't considered that constant missions in a short span of time have seriously caused you all harm."

"Correct, Judge." Riker stepped forward. "Look at them. To get Hochstetter to vouch for their suffering. I'd call that pertinent and also a great witness."

"Now, Picard. You supposedly volunteered to represent the writers, even though this is just another one of these repetitive hearings to see if this goes any further?" Silence. "Picard, you're up." Harry sat back in his chair. He contemplated playing with his silly putty, but he found Picard mesmerizing, and so he decided to pay the utmost attention.

"I am. Yes." The captain rose from his chair. He recalled doing some mental exercises while waiting for the proceedings to continue. Needing some time to recall where he was and why he was there, he adjusted his shirt. "Ah, yes." He just needed a quick character reboot and everything now came flooding back. Making a quick mental note to talk to Doctor Freedman about this, he stepped forward and faced the judge.

"These challenges have been in place for close to a decade. They have raised hundreds of dollars for various causes. You claim you are exhausted, stressed, tired, and fatigued. Well, I have had a bit of time to do some investigating on my own. Do you not have any empathy for what is going on up there?" Picard pointed up. "The work put into their contest. The preliminary effort that goes into choosing the prompts, notifying fandoms, reviewing all these stories. I now know of one participant who developed severe carpal tunnel just from reviewing every story in one day. Another had to get a new prescription for glasses."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "Wow, that's tough. Most insurance plans don't cover eyes or dental. I don't understand that? Why is that?"

"Focus, Stone."

"Sorry, Picard. Go on." the judge noted everyone in the courtroom was also paying attention to the Starfleet captain. It must have been the British accent, he supposed.

"And what do they get from this besides a Papa Bear Award now and then. Nothing. Nothing I tell you." His voice rose. "Nothing except the satisfaction of a job well done, and perhaps a small deduction on their income tax if they itemize."

"My clients don't have a problem with their SSSW contest." A huge groan went up. "Hear me out," RIker said. "They are all in favor of creativity, thinking on the fly and charitable contributions. Perhaps the solution is to somehow get it across to the writers that they should spread out the posting of stories."

"That, Number One, negates the whole point." Picard turned and faced the judge. "They have two weeks to come up with a story and post it any time on the designated day. If it's spread out...well...isn't it just like posting a regular story?"

"Well, not really," Harry said. They still have two weeks to come up with one. Or two weeks and one or two days...whatever. Maybe they should make it over a three day weekend."

"No." Hogan stood up, hanging on to the back of the bench for support. "No. We are still getting too many missions in too short of a time." The door opening in the back of the room interrupted the proceedings. It was Baker. The men were so bushed they didn't even realize he had been missing. The substitute radioman was carrying a shopping bag.

"Baker? Where were you?" asked Hogan, who was slightly annoyed.

"Sorry, sir. Went AWOL. Into the city."

A gasp ran out. A character walking through the city was strictly verboten.

"I brought you something." He handed Hogan the bag.

"Um. Thanks?" Hogan looked inside and pulled out a bottle of Rogaine. "Seriously?"

Baker shrugged. "Thought maybe if you could at least get some of your hair back, you'd drop this ridiculous lawsuit."

Another gasp.

"You're on report, Mister." Hogan's tone of voice dropped an octave. It was his serious, command-level, angry voice, and it startled many in the courtroom.

"90 days in the cooler," Klink waved his hand at the sergeant.

"Now this is getting interesting." Harry chuckled. "Sergeant Baker. Please approach the bench."

"This is a hostile witness!" Riker shouted.

"I know a cell," Hochstetter stated loudly.

"Well, I think this is just being petty, that's all." Baker, who was not that tired, slouched in the witness chair.

"You just get more screen time. Admit it, Sergeant." Riker's face was turning an interesting shade of red.

Picard popped up. "Objection. Conjecture." He pulled down his shirt and then sat back down.

"Objection sustained." Harry motioned for Baker to take a seat in the witness box. After the sergeant settled in, he asked, "So you think this is petty?"

"Well, Judge. I mean, how many times will we repeat this same plot? I thought everything was settled. No one likes to be dragged into court. Even if it is a break from the drudgery, monotony, boredom, and tedium of camp life."

LeBeau popped up. "Boredom? With all those missions. Our lives constantly in danger. What sitcom are you on?"

"Spending most of my time down in the tunnels taking messages," Baker replied. "Although I have to admit, some of the authors do have a soft spot for my character. Won't lie about that."

A coughing fit broke into the proceedings. All heads turned to see who was interrupting, and several men grimaced as they witnessed Crittendon tripping over air as he headed down the aisle towards the front of the courtroom. "Sorry." He chuckled. "Pardon."

"Are those flowers?" Riker asked as he quickly stepped out of Crittendon's path.

"Yes. Indeed. Geraniums to be exact. Thought these might brighten up the courtroom." He held out the bunch, which Harry accepted.

He looks so innocent, the judge thought. Like a puppy.

Hogan stood up. "Don't fall into his trap, Stone. He's a menace."

Crittendon ignored Hogan's insult. He always ignored the insults. That's what made him even more annoying.

"Colonel."

"Group Captain, if you want to be realistic, Judge Stone."

"Group Captain. What do you want? You are interrupting an important witness."

Baker grinned. "This ought to be good. Judge Stone. I have nothing more to say. I'm sorry for the interruption. Let the Group Captain take over."

Without waiting for permission, Baker, who was beginning to show some cheek, hopped down from the witness chair and took his seat in the front row. His friends gave him a look and then turned their attention to Crittendon.

"Jolly sporting of you, old boy." Crittendon, smiling, took a seat in the witness box.

Hogan pulled down his crush cap, covering his eyes.

"Righto. Get on with it."

"On with what, Colonel...I mean Group Captain."

Crittendon turned to face the judge. Noticing the bench was rather untidy, he frowned. "Must you always putter around with toys and, what are those?" he asked, pointing to scraps of paper littering the far side.

"Yes, I must putter around with toys," Harry replied. "It's part of my character. Plus, dealing with all of you, your fandom, and the authors who spawned you caused me a great deal of stress. Years ago, and now." He sighed as he fingered an origami bird.

Crittendon tsked in sympathy. "Bad show. I do understand." He frowned. "I came here for a reason." He chuckled. "Sorry. A bit forgetful."

Riker stood up and walked towards the witness box. "We're here because everyone is just plum tired and they want to take some action regarding the SSSW contests and the effect on their health, etcetera and so forth. I assume you have something pertinent to add to these proceedings, Crittendon."

"Ah, yes. I do indeed."

He leaned forward in the witness box and paused. In turn, the entire courtroom leaned forward as well, waiting impatiently for the Group Captain to impart his special form of wisdom.

"Shame, shame, shame on all of you. This contest you claim is making your life miserable. Well, gentlemen, if you actually bothered to actually look at those putting you through your paces, you'll discover that some of our old friends make an effort to participate, even when they have not contributed for quite some time."

"What are you saying, Crittendon?" Hogan asked.

Picard rose from his chair. "Judge Stone. The Group Captain makes a good point."

Up in the balcony, slouching in the back row, veterans from the Combat universe yawned and scratched. They were a filthy, tired looking bunch, having just completed another mission in that same old French countryside they'd been cursed to patrol since the 1960's. Directly in back of them, for the WW2 TV series crowd tended to stick together, sat the sharp-looking crew from 12 O'clock High.

"This is taking too long," commented General Savage. "You in front. Straighten up before I put you on report."

A weary Sergeant Saunders turned and faced the general. "Seriously? Leave my guys alone." He turned around and slouched back down, his men silently thanking him for his support.

"Your group isn't fit to dig latrines," Savage retorted. He was not in a good mood, having revisited his last episode just that morning. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he was killed off.

This prompted Kirby to immediately jump into the fray. "Why you no good..."

"Kirby, stand down!" This shout came from Lieutenant Hanley, who was seated several rows in front of his crew. The Lieutenant was comparing notes with the Rat Patrol crew.

"Sorry, Lieutenant." As Kirby sat back down next to his friends, he gave the Hogan's Heroes crew a thumbs up. "I wonder where their women are?" he commented to Saunders, who told him to shut up.

Harry loudly banged on his gavel. "Order. General Savage. Hanley. You're out of here if you and your crews don't behave. Now, Group Captain, please continue."

"Well, I believe I made my point. I came here to support my fellow prisoners, and ahem, their captors, but I have changed my mind. Once I had a better look at the writings, of course. It is rather shallow of them, don't you think?"

Hochstetter growled and stomped out of the courtroom, while the POW's and their German captors leaned forward and gave the Group Captain a piece of their collective minds.

"That's very magnanimous of you, sir," Picard noted as he grinned at the judge. Pulling out a data pad, he scrolled through for a moment. Approaching the judge, he handed him the gizmo. "I'd like to enter this into evidence. The SSSW contest brings in new authors. They use this to get their feet wet. And as the Group Captain explained, it includes some of our old-time favorites. Even when these older authors no longer write on a regular basis, they do take the time to contribute to this worthy cause."

"Entered," Harry said. He scrolled through the page, finally paying attention to the names of the contributors. "Uh huh."

"And may I add, Judge Stone, that because some of these older authors have garnered a great deal of followers, past followers see a new story pop up in their email, and then they may head over to the site to read, bringing them full circle back to the fandom, etcetera, etcetera and so forth. It's a win-win." Picard pulled down his shirt. "I rest my case."

Hogan stood up. "Oh for crying out loud. That's very nice. I admit, we all miss some of those writers, but we're still tired. Can't you Trek people do something?"

Harry leaned forward. "I have made my decision. Group Captain, thank you for your insight. You may step down."

Crittendon headed back into the spectator seats, smartly avoiding the regular characters, now seething at him for his testimony.

Harry cleared his throat. "Gentlemen. Mel Torme once said, 'I want to sing for the broadest possible audience.' He also said, 'As a singer, the biggest joy I have are the arrangements.' This scenario fits his wisdom. I'm sorry fellas, but you have no case." As groans filled the courtroom, he raised his hand. "However, I am willing to concede the time frame is taking a toll, and something like this could spread throughout the fan fiction realms."

A disappointed Riker stood up. "I take it this means a conference."

"Yup. All Trek people, I need you in my chambers, toot suite. Court is recessed until we try and figure something out." Harry banged the gavel. He and all the Star Trek characters, including those from the Kelvin universe, followed him out of the courtroom and into his chambers.

Meanwhile, the spectators left the courtroom, leaving the Hogan's Heroes people to ponder their fate.

Hogan stood up and stretched. He looked at his crew, gave them a weary smile and then approached Klink. "Nice to be working on the same side for once, sir."

Klink, his head in his hands, moaned.

"Look at the bright side, Kommandant. You're so exhausted, you don't need your hot cocoa to help you fall asleep," Schultz said.

"Oh, just go away." Klink leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Ya think the scifi folks can help us out, Newkirk?"

"I 'ope so, Andrew." Newkirk began working with a deck of cards, dropping several on the floor, as he yawned.

Meanwhile, in Stone's chambers, the scifi folks commiserated among themselves.

"We'll get the Department of Temporal Investigations folks breathing down our necks if we try that, sir. They won't take it lightly if we interfere with time up there."

"Very well, Data. Scrap that solution," Picard said.

"I have an idea," Kelvin Spock announced.

Riker turned his head and faced the younger Vulcan. "Spit it out, man."

"What if time up there remains the same, but we slow down time here. Just for that 24 hour period. And just for our WW2 friends here. If it's 24 hours up there, it can be say, a month down here; or however long you wish to make it."

"Good one, Spock." Kelvin Kirk slapped his friend on the back. "How did you think of that?"

"I read it in a Star Trek Novel," Spock replied. "The opposite happened there. An hour in a time bubble was equal to a longer time frame outside the bubble. It's very complicated."

"Cool," Harry said. "Bull, can you get the title and put that on my reading list?"

"Will do, sir."

"Do you think you can duplicate the effect and flip it so time here is longer?" Picard asked.

"With Mr. Data's assistance, I believe I can." Spock replied.

It took several weeks, but eventually, court resumed and everyone took their seats.

"Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink. And everyone else, please rise." The two colonels nervously stared at the judge, while the rest of the characters fidgeted in the back.

"We found a solution!" Harry said happily. "Thanks to Mr. Spock, Mr. Data, and a Star Trek novel, the SSSW contest can and will continue. The authors will never know what occurred here. Your time frame will expand and you won't be subject to umpteen missions in just 24 hours." Harry leaned forward. "I do hope this is acceptable."

"Let me make sure I understand this. We get a longer time frame to conduct these missions?"

"Correct Colonel Hogan," Kelvin Spock stated. "And the authors continue their good works. It is as we say, a win, win."

Hogan looked at his men. Some nodded, some gave him a nonverbal sign and many offered a verbal okay.

"I'm okay with it. Kommandant?"

Klink replied, "Of course. I wouldn't wish to inhibit charitable contributions. Plus, I do miss some of those older authors. It's nice to have them back every so often."

"Well alrighty then." Harry grabbed his gavel, which was hidden underneath a pile of Star Trek novels, action figures, and a giant Rubik's cube. "I'd like to give a special thanks to Colonel, I mean Group Captain Crittendon for his assistance in finding a solution to this crisis."

Crittendon offered a salute. "You're quite welcome, Judge."

"This court is adjourned," Harry announced happily. Everyone, go home."

As the characters disbursed to their fandoms and the Trek characters beamed up to goodness knows where, Harry's friends and colleagues surrounded the judge. They offered him congratulations on a job well-done.

"I guess that's a wrap, Harry." Dan smiled at Stone.

"Indeed it is Dan, indeed it is."

the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The novel (which I only read last week; I was actually stuck at finding a solution to this story) is Time Lock, Starfleet Department of Temporal Investigations, e-book, by Christopher Bennett

**Author's Note:**

> 1) correct from the date I actually wrote that paragraph.
> 
> 2) Kelvin Timeline: The alternate timeline formed by the events in the new Star Trek Movie series which premiered in 2009
> 
> the confusion over actors named Chris was handled in great comedic and musical fashion by Saturday Night Live. Check out the episode with Chris Pine as host.


End file.
